Review: Lindsey Santoro: Pink Tinge

At the very top of her debut hour, Lindsey Santoro warns the audience that there’s no particular theme to her comedy, just a collection of funny stories. But as she giggles and gossips her way through tales of cervical smear tests, new motherhood and sexual misadventure, the audience soon realises there is a clear through-line: Santoro’s irresistible likeability. 

Despite a previous nomination for British Comedian of The Year 2021 and a support slot for Joe Lycett at Wembley Arena, this is Santoro’s first full hour at the Fringe. All that preparation has made it a confident one, with Santoro completely at ease in front of an audience. Pink Tinge has the feel of an hour spent catching up with your crassest and bluntest friend, wincingly descriptive accounts of bodily functions and all.

Santoro’s comedy is, for the most part, scatological and crass. It’s also very funny; jokes don’t rely on the shock factor or the impact of coarse language alone. Rather, Santoro is a natural storyteller who knows her way around a relatable anecdote, be it about vaginas or rock climbing. By her own admission, there’s no big or clever message here. In the hands of a comedian as competent and personable as Santoro, that doesn’t matter: Pink Tinge is a solid hour of fun in reliably great company.